


Bambi

by Zighana



Series: The Jungle [3]
Category: Claws (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Characters with Mental Illness, College, F/M, Original Black Female Characters, Pregnancy, Queer Black Female Characters, Racism, Self-Harm, Toxic Relationship, Tragedy, teenage romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zighana/pseuds/Zighana
Summary: Roller tries to reconnect with an old fling; 19 year old Roller connects with an old classmate from high school.





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place starting with Roller meeting Delilah for the first time and how their relationship went from a blossoming love to a tragedy. It flips from 2000, 2004-2009, and 2017. Enjoy!

Bambi

Spring, 2000

Roller Husser drums his pencil against the desk for the 30th time, knowing it’s driving Mrs. Johnson up the wall. 

He’s gotten detention again; this time he’d gotten caught writing graffiti on the bathroom mirror by the janitor. He’s none too enthusiastic about scrubbing permanent marker off the walls he’d just cleaned. He made sure to tell Roller about it when he dragged him into the principal’s office by the scruff of his hoodie. 

He doesn’t mind detention, not one bit. Maybe it’s because all the kids in detention aren’t dweebs and Mrs. Johnson is smoking hot. He’d be a school legend if he got between that tight pencil skirt…

“Husser.” 

He snaps out of it. Mrs. Johnson is looking at him through her black cat-eye glasses, gripping a ruler so tight it’s cracking.

“Stop. Making. Noise.” She says. Before turning to go sit in her desk. She pulls out her book, some self-help bullshit by a woman who’d never been married no doubt, and starts reading.

The room is dead silent; the only noise is the buzzing of the flickering overhead lights that the school is too lazy to change. 

The task for detention is simple; write a five-paged essay on how they wound up getting detention and what they’re doing to avoid making that same mistake twice. Judging from one student passed out at his desk, another filing her nails, and one writing and stopping after page three, it’s likely no one is going to finish the task on time.

Roller isn’t a writer, not by the farthest stretch of imagination, and he doesn’t know how he could write enough to make five pages, let alone one. He got caught graffiti, he knew it was wrong and he promises to never do it again because of blah blah blah. That’s not even enough to make six lines on his paper. 

He erases the words and tries again, deciding to look out the window. 

It’s about to be summer, the volleyball team are doing practice outside since the air conditioning in the gym broke down three weeks ago; toned bodies running in tight volleyball shorts that cup the ass just right is pleasing to the eyes. He’d fucked the captain two months ago, her name was…Shelly? Sharon? Shanice? Something with an S-H. She’s bouncing the volleyball with her wrists, her red hair turned gold by the sun shining down on her just right. 

One could call her beautiful. 

The girls are bouncing that ball back and forth across the poles, their bodies glowing from the hot sun. Roller stares through the sea of tanned bodies and golden hair and sees…her.

The weird kid, sitting on the grass across from them, scribbling something in her notebook. She’s dressed like Alison from The Breakfast Club, her body clothed in warm gear that he knows she’s suffering in. but she scribbles away at whatever’s tucked away from her clothed knees; he sees combat boots peeking out from a tartan skirt that looks like a blanket. 

The volleyball girls see the weird one, and one whispers to another, and they got a smirk on their faces. Next thing Roller knew, one bounces the volleyball high in the air and smacks it so hard he and everyone in the classroom hears it. 

SMACK.

The ball hits the weird girl right in the face. Hard. 

Everyone in the classroom cringes.

In slow motion, the girl jerks her head back and falls, the ball bouncing off her and flying out of Roller’s line of sight. Her legs fly out, the thing she was scribbling in dropping to the grass; if he squints hard enough he could make out a drawing. 

The girls laugh and point at her, none of them making an attempt to help her.

The volleyball girls leave, not before taking their volleyball. The girl is still on the grass, not moving.

“You think she’s dead?” Gus, his classmate in Chemistry asks.

“I don’t know.” The goth girl answers. She fiddles with her eyebrow ring.

“Someone should get to her soon before she dies out there.”

Roller stares out at the girl. She’s still not moving.

“Is anyone…going to help her?” He finds himself asking. They can’t just leave her like that…could they?

Without thinking, he rises from his desk and makes his way to the door.

“Husser you sit your ass back in that seat or consider your summer vacation ruined.” Mrs. Johnson tells him, not taking her eyes off her book.

“See you in summer school.” He tells her, before closing the door behind him.

He finds the girl in seconds, she’s still out cold. She’s sweating bullets, but she’s breathing. If it was summer she would’ve been dead right now: black sweater, black scarf, black cardigan, black and brown wrap skirt that’s made for the winter with olive green tights and combat boots. Her hair is of flat-ironed curls and bangs that’s being sweated out; underneath he sees her eyes lined with heavy eye liner. He picks her up, carrying her bridal style, not before grabbing her sketchbook and pen, tucking it underneath her arm.

They’re in the nurse’s office, the woman making quick work of placing the girl on the bed and rubbing ice cubes on her lips for moisture.

“Thank you for bringing her in when you did, poor thing was about to have a heat stroke.” Nurse Sandy said, applying a cool ice pack to her forehead. She removes the girl’s scarf, sliding off her cardigan and tossing it to the side. 

“It’s 81 degrees outside. Why on earth would she wear this?” Nurse Sandy muses. She pulls off the girl’s sweater, and when it’s finally off Nurse Sandy and Roller freeze.

On her dark skin, her arms are bandaged up and bloodied. Gingerly, Nurse Sandy pulls the bandages off and gasps. 

Her arms look mutilated. Wounds, some old, some fresh, mar her skin. The one that stood out was the one that looked the deepest on her wrist.

“Oh, honey.” Nurse Sandy chokes. Roller walks to the girl, lifting up her arm, stroking the raised flesh and rough scabs. 

“Delilah Walker, you poor tortured soul.” Nurse Sandy shakes her head. She turns to Roller, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. 

“Thank you. Today, you might’ve just saved her life.” She smiles at him.

“I only wanted to do what’s right. Is…is she gonna be okay? Especially with…” Roller gestures to her arms. 

“I don’t believe I’m telling you this, but, she’s going to be fine. I’ll tell her psychiatrist that she’s…back doing this. As for the injury to her face it’s nothing major. When she wakes up, she’s going to have a really bad headache.” She laughs. 

“She…did this…to herself?” Roller asks. Nurse Sandy looks at him with a look that’s a mix between embarrassed, nervous, and disappointed. 

“Yes.” She says slowly.

“Sometimes, people who suffer from mental illness, especially bipolar disorder…harm themselves. It happens, it’s nothing to shame her about, so I’d like it if you kept what you saw between us. She’s already dealt with enough with her peers.” 

“Who am I gon’ tell? You know who you talkin’ to?” Roller asks. Nurse Sandy snickers.

“You’re a wigger who’s 107 pounds soaking wet. You’re not fooling me. I’ve known you since you came in my office Junior High.” She retorts.

Roller nods his head at this.

“True.” He says. 

“I’m going to find her some better fitting clothes. I’d like it if you’d give us some privacy.” She opens the door for him to leave. Taking the cue, he exits, but not before swiping her sketchbook. 

 

2017

“You’re late.”

Roller snaps out of it. Dr. Ruval stands before him, arms crossed in a suit that screams expensive. 

“When I say come at a specific time, you come at a specific time. Do you understand me?” Ruval says. His Haitian crew is posted wall to wall, arms crossed and guns at their disposal.  
“Crystal.” Roller answers, not even batting an eye.

Ruval, accepting the answer, sits back in the chair across from him. 

“Before we go any further, I scheduled this meeting to discuss how we’re going to take down the Russians. We need to find out their weakness and expose it—”

“—Cut the bullshit, man. We all know why I’m really here.”

Ruval’s eyebrow raises.

“Do tell.” He says. He smiles like a cat waiting for its prey.

“You wanna see whose dick is bigger.” Roller answers. Snickers emanate the room. Ruval waves a hand of silence.

“Excuse me?” Ruval asks.

“I’m Desna’s ex. You wanna size me up and do a pissing contest. See who’s the real man and who’s the real bitch. You don’t like the thought some white trash thug was fucking Desna before you even got to her. You got my leftovers, bitch.” Roller says. Ruval’s men draw their guns, barrels and beams pointed at Roller’s head. He smirks.

“Struck a nerve?” He asks the drug lord. Ruval laughs. He laughs a hearty laugh that makes Roller’s blood boil.

“You deluded yourself into thinking, actually thinking, you discarded Desna? She discarded YOU.” Ruval shouts.

“She told me how she got tired of men not treating her right, not making her happy…” Ruval then whispers, “not making her cum.”

His crew breaks out a few chuckles. Ruval silences them again. 

“You never gave me your leftovers, I took them, I treated them the way they needed to be treated and I made them gourmet while you treated them like TV dinner.” Ruval sucks his teeth. 

“You listen—”

“—No, you listen to me. You made it too easy for me to take Desna from you. The way she was talking it was like you never existed. It’s clear whose dick is bigger considering how loud she would scream my name.”

That’s what did it. Roller lunges at him but is tackled to the ground. Ruval puts his boot on his head and presses until Roller’s face is molded into the filthy concrete.

“Watch your tongue when you’re talking to grown folks. Next time I won’t be as kind. Next time I’ll cut off your tongue and feed it to the alligators, along with your body chopped up into pieces.” Ruval removes his boot off Roller’s head.

“Throw him out. I’ve had enough of his insolence for one day. You’re dismissed, little boy.” 

Roller is thrown out on his ass, embarrassment and shame turning his face and ears red.

He’d gotten bested by a wannabe Kenny G pussy.

What a way to start the morning.

Spring, 2000

“Hey, you!”

Roller stops in his tracks. Turning, he sees Delilah storm towards him, clad in a gym uniform three sizes too big and her boots clumsily clunking against linoleum. 

“You stole my sketchbook, asshole!” She shouts. He finally got a good look at her eyes; they’re hazel. 

“What are you talking about?” Roller answers. 

“Nurse Sandy said a white kid with a durag took me to her office and my sketchbook mysteriously disappears. What other white kid with a durag do you know goes to this school?” Delilah replies.

“First of all, I ain’t white. I’m mixed with black.” Roller says.

“By one percent. My book, please.” Delilah says coolly, handing out her hand. Roller sees the fresh bandages on her arm. Delilah sees that he sees her arm and retracts it.

“You saw, didn’t you?” she asks.

“Yeah.” He answers.

“It’s none of your business.” She begins.

“Never said it was.” He finishes.

Silence. Delilah wrings at the hem of her shirt. 

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” 

“No.”

“Why’d you bring me in the nurse’s office?”

“Those girls smacked you in the face with a volleyball and nobody was helping you.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“It had to be done.”

“But why?”

“Why do you want to know? I did what was right.”

“Because no one helps me unless there’s a mean-spirited reason. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Did you rip out my sketchbook? Did you…show my pictures with all your wigger friends?”

“No, actually. I…sat down and enjoyed them.”

“You…enjoyed them.”

“Yup. I like the one with the…plant thing. The girl was turning into a—"

“—it’s supposed to symbolize Mother Nature and the effects of global warming.”

“Okay. Cool. Whatever that is. You draw really nice. I like it.”

“Thank you, but next time don’t look at a stranger’s sketchbook. It’s…it’s an asshole thing to do.”

“Why?”

“It’s like reading someone’s diary. It’s a space where…people can express themselves without judgment.” 

“Whatever, man. Here. I was on the last page. You were drawing the volleyball team before…that.” Roller hands her her sketchbook. She tucks it away protectively under her arm.

“Yeah. Bitches.” She turns her head and begins walking away.

“Thanks, dude.” She says over her shoulder.

“Hey, wait up!” he calls after her. He sees her sigh.

“What do you want now, man?” she asks.

“You wanna…you want me to walk you home? I just want to make sure you’re not gonna pass out in the street.”

Delilah twists her face in a look of contemplation before turning her back again and walking. She stops, turns her head and says,

“C’mon. you’re carrying my things.”

Roller smiles.

“I got you.” He says.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roller meets Delilah again at a diner/Roller hears a rumor about an old love.

**Summer, 2004**

The AC is broken. 

Roller, fingers singed with wires, decides then and there that his electrician apprenticeship had gone to waste. 

Auntie Mama sees his handiwork with a look of both pity and disappointment. 

"Guess we gettin' ice cream to cool off," She says, before bumping a small mountain of cocaine on her wrist. Uncle Daddy is already making his way to his truck. 

~~~

Roller sits at a diner, patiently waiting for his food while Auntie Mama and Uncle Daddy suck face in front of him. 

By the grace of God the food gets here and it's served by some cute girl with heart-shaped earrings. 

"That'll be all for you guys?" Earring girl asks. Roller stares at her and it clicks in his mind.

"Holy shit. Delilah?" 

He stands up, turning his sideways baseball cap backwards.

"Roller?" The waitress beams up at him. Roller swoops her in a crushing hug. 

"Oh my god, I haven't seen you since you since...Sophomore Year!" He looks her up and down.

"You look good." He adds. He spins her around and he sees her thick thighs and her voluptuous ass poking through her waitress uniform.

The South has been good to her. 

"Ahem." 

The two jolt. Uncle Daddy is tapping the table, that manicured nail of a dolphin encased in rhinestones scratching into the wood.

"We like to eat our food in peace, gal." He says. 

"Excuse-?" Delilah starts. Roller cuts her off.

"-Uncle Daddy, this is my old classmate Delilah. We used to be friends before she changed schools." He says. Uncle Daddy nods his head.

"I see. Friends, huh?" Uncle Daddy says, eyeing Delilah from his mug of vodka-spiked orange juice. 

"Yeah. Just...friends." Roller answers.

"Alright then. Bambi," He nods his head towards Delilah, "Fetch me and the Mrs. some ice cream sundaes. What you doing after work?"

"Uh...umm..."

"Don't _uh_ and _Umm_ -ing me, Bambi. I ain't got all day. I'm trying to see if you want to come by our house later on this evening. We got a pool and Roller here needs a woman in his life that ain't a whore." 

If the earth could swallow Roller whole, he wishes it could right now.

"I'll...see what I can do. Oh! A customer needs my help! I'll check on you guys in a bit. Enjoy!" Delilah says, curtly making her way to the other side of the diner, out of Roller's line of sight. 

He buries his face in his hands.

"Can y'all get anymore embarrassing?"

**2017**

"What do you have for me, Chip?" Roller asks. Chip comes out of the shadows, lollipop jutting out of his mouth and holding a manila envelope. 

Tearing through the envelope, Roller flips through the stack of papers.

Photos of a child on his way to school makes his heart sink to his stomach. The mother is with him, arms wrapped around him kissing him on the back of his head. They're at a park on that photo, Fall was about to happen, given the leaves turning yellow.

His eyes never leave the mother. In one photo she's at a coffee shop, typing at her laptop in a black turtleneck and a skirt that has a slit high on her thigh. 

Without realizing it, he thumbs the photo, stroking the hair that's tucked behind her ear.

"After all these years, she's more beautiful than ever." He whispers. 

He feels the tears come; he does a bump on his hand to swallow them back. 

"How much I owe you?" He gestures to Chip, who raises his hand to him.

"That's on the house. I know this ain't my business, and every year I keep asking you, but...what are you doing with the information I'm giving you?"

"What's it matter to you?" Roller asks, his tone defensive.

"No disrespect, but I've been watching this girl for seven years, now. What is your history with her for you to have me keep this many tabs on her?"

Roller clutches the photo of the mother and child holding each other on a slide.

"Don't worry about it."

"Well, I need to get back to Uncle Daddy. I'm going to give you some extra info about ol' girl: _she's getting married._ "

When Roller whips his head around, Chip is already in his car.

He knocks on the glass.

"Give me everything you have next week. I want to know who the groom is, the date and time, the location, _everything_. Leave no detail out." Roller tells him. 

"That's going to take a few days-"

"-That's why I'm paying you double."

Chip lays down his hat.

"I'll see what I can do." 

When Chip pulls off, Roller eyes the stack of photos once more and inhaling a sharp breath.


End file.
